you're the love of my life (i'll never leave your side)
by Little Miss Thalia Grace
Summary: "I swear, when I grow up," Francis told Arthur, in all the seriousness the flamboyant five year old could muster, "I won't just buy you a rose."
1. even if the sun stops waking up

A/N: This is based off of 'The Gambler' by fun.

I heard the song and immediately thought of these two. Seriously, it fits human!au perfectly. This is only a tiny bit because I'm tired, but I may do more if requested. Like, the full songs worth.

I don't own hetalia.

I will be posting all four chapters at once seeing this is a finished piece on Ao3

Even if the sun stops waking up

It was February 14th. Saint Valentines Day. The day of L'Amour. It was little Francis Bonnefoy's favourite holiday ever.

At five years old, he loved love. He'd heard stories of the way your heart goes weird, the way you would do anything for that special person. Francis knew what love was, he knew what it felt like, and he knew exactly what the little grumpy blonde boy in the grade below him made him feel.

Francis was sure it was love.

And on February 14th, 1997, he swore he would tell Arthur Kirkland exactly how he felt, and Arthur would surely feel the same way, and then they would be happy and get married and have lots and lots of kisses.

And on February 14th, 1997, Francis almost ran straight into his young love, his heart doing that weird thing again.

"Watch where you're going!" Arthur huffed, his tiny cheeks going red as he glared at Francis. Francis found himself frozen before he let out a small smile.

"Desolée." Francis muttered, and Arthur pushed past him, grabbing his plaid lunch bag from his cubby.

Francis was definitely in love.

Later in the day, during last recess, Francis found Arthur sitting alone on one of the hills, pulling out grass and throwing it in the air. This would be the perfect time.

Francis said goodbye to his friends, Antonio and Gilbert, and ran over to where Arthur was. Arthur looked up when Francis got closer, his green eyes narrowing. "What do you want?"

"I want you to be mine, Cher. " Francis said confidently.

Arthur stared at him like he was insane. "What?"

"Will you be my valentine?" Francis asked him, holding out the single rose he stole from Mrs Hedevary's desk. Arthur stared at the rose a couple seconds, before shaking his head.

"You'll have to do better than that, Frog."

Francis was disheartened, but was ready to continue his pursue of love when a thought slipped through his young mind. "Why are you alone?"

"What?" Arthur asked again, but this time looking a lot less confident in himself.

"It's a day of being with people you love, and you're all alone." Francis stated, feeling horrible about himself as Arthur looked down, tears forming in his eyes.

"W-well, I guess I don't have many friends... and none of my brothers really seem to like me..."

The boy seemed ready to break down crying, and Francis decided he didn't like Arthur being sad. It made him sad, and Francis did not like being sad.

In a leap of courage, France marched forward and thrust the rose out to Arthur. "I swear when I grow up," He said to Arthur with all the seriousness the flamboyant five year old could muster, "I won't just buy you a rose. I will buy you a flower shop, and you will never be lonely. I promise."

Arthur hesitated before taking the rose. Then he smiled at Francis. "I'm going to hold you too that."

"Where the hell are we going, you bloody frog!" A now 21 year old Arthur Kirkland cursed at his boyfriend, protesting about being dragged in the freezing bloody cold.

"It is a surprise, Cher!" Francis, who really hadn't changed much from the age of 5, said happily as he dragged his poor, abused boyfriend through the snow and slush of February. A couple girls giggled them as they passed and Arthur gave them his best glare, which only made them giggle more.

"Francis are we almost-"

"We're here!" Francis said happily, turning to Arthur with a big smile on his stubbled face.

Arthur glanced around seeing nothing extraordinary. "What, exactly, is here?"

Francis sighed in an over dramatic manner and wrapped his arms around the shorter blond. "What exactly do you see?"

Arthur didn't really want to play this game. "Well, across the street is the park, and on this side there's a Coffee Time, some kind of bookstore or nightclub, a flower shop, a-" Arthur stopped himself from talking, his eyes going going wide.

"I said you'd never be lonely, and I believe it's time I kept both promises." Francis smiled at him the way he did back in kindergarten, and Arthur found himself crushing his body against the Frenchman's, embarrassing tears Leaking from his eyes.

"I love you, you bloody romantic." Arthur stated, voice muffled by the fabric of Francis coat.

Francis smiled as he lay his head on top of Arthur's.

"Je t'aime, Arthur, je t'aime. "


	2. you think that I nearly lost you

A/N: Oh look. It's the next bit of the song.

In other words, I just played Corpsetalia and I sobbed for half an hour and threw my water bottle across the room. I ended up with the bad ending first, naturally.

Secondly, I'm sorry for any crappy typos and/or lack of italics and such. These are crappy drabbles written on my phone when I should be asleep.

I may write something for corpsetalia later. And cry. That's probably what fueled the angst in this chapter.

you think that I nearly lost you

"Yes, yes, Francis, I know it's ridiculous that Gilbert won't ju- well its not like he can just walk right up and- okay okay, hold on frog, I'm driving... hold on, Alfred did wha-"

The phone flew across to the side of the car as the airbag inflated, trying to help the bleeding driver.

Francis Bonnefoy sat on the extremely uncomfortable chair with his head in his hands, a quiet seven year old Matthew on his knee and an equally aged Alfred chattering away beside him.

"Dad's gonna be okay, right? I mean, he's really tough! He's like superman, cause he can always pick me and Mattie up and swing us around so that means he's superly awesomely strong. Is dad a superhero, papa?"

Francis looked up to stare over at his son, forcing a smile on his face. "Yes, mon petit fleur, your father is the best superhero."

Alfred looked content at this and continued to sip happily on his chocolate milk. Matthew was so silent he was almost invisible. Francis sighed, staring at the wall forlornly. His children hadn't been told of the the full condition, just that their father was hurt.

"Mr. Bonnefoy?" The receptionist called, and Francis nearly dropped Matthew in his haste to get over there.

"Oui, that's me."

A doctor came out to meet him. "Hello, you are Mr. Kirkland's...?" He trailed off, clearly expecting an answer.

Francis quickly shook the doctors hand, using the free one which wasn't holding Matthew. "Ah, I'm his fiancé."

The doctor, whom Francis read to be Dr Wang, nodded. "Well, I'm afraid I have some news..."

Dr Wang quickly filled Francis in on the situation while the children played with the small toy pile in the corner. It seemed Arthur had suffered from a fairly severe concussion. Dr Wang stated that he was currently stable, but was in what was deemed to be a coma.

"We're unsure how long it will be until he wakes up, but it is expected that he will." The Chinese man had told him. "I'd go home with your kids. They'll need you, aru."

After going to bed that night with a bottle of wine and tears in his eyes, Francis decided all he could do was wait.

The only reason Arthur and Francis weren't married was the fact Arthur stated he didn't need a silly piece of paper to prove he loved his frog. Francis was always pleasantly surprised whenever Arthur said these small things, and they always made him ridiculously happy.

The fact that, despite the high anticipation of him waking up, there was a chance he never would. Faced with the chance that Francis would never hear Arthur say those silly little things again made Francis want to scream and cry and hang himself in a bathroom stall. The only reason he hadn't broken down yet was because of his children.

Every single time they would ask him, 'When will daddy wake up?' made Francis feel like absolute shit.

It had been two weeks, and every single day Francis spent it with his beloved brit.

"July is coming soon, I hope you will be there for the boy's birthday. Little Alfie is so excited, talking about fireworks and streamers and a cake bigger than him. Mathiue's quieter about it, but I can tell he's excited too. They both miss you, so, so much. They keep asking when you'll be home. I don't know what to tell them."

"Today some kids were bullying poor Mathieu. It was a Russian named Ivan, who looked like he was better build for the eighth grade. You should have heard what Alfred did, he walked right up and punched the child in the face. He gets it from you, you know. You have the same temper."

"Gilbert finally kissed Roderich, though apparently Elizabeta was there as well. She took pictures and apparently the aristocrat yelled a lot, but I think they are an item now. Ah, L'Amour. "

"..."

You swore you'd be here until we have decided it was our time, but it's not our time, not yet. We will go together, when that time comes, but it's not now. S'il vous plait, don't make it now."

"This is my fault. I called you, you should have been paying attention. The reports said you were speeding a red light. Mon dieu, this is my fault. When you wake up, you can yell and hit me and call me names but just... wake up."

"You have never given up in all your life, Cher. Not when you tried cooking, or when Alfie would call you anything but pére. Not even when you tried to get back at the little brats who made me cry. You can't give up now."

"I will never let go of your hand, Cher. You're the love of my life, I will never let go."

Arthur Kirkland woke up on June 30th, and found an extremely horrid looking Francis at his beside, clutching his hand. Seeing how positively horrid his fiancé looked, Arthur gave a small smile, the biggest he could while sluggish from the heavy drugs. Francis looked at him wide eyes, seeing nothing but adoration in Arthur's drooping ones.

"Sleep, you bloody frog. I'm not going anywhere."


	3. all the kids have bloomed from babies

A/N: One more guys.

All the kids have bloomed from babies

His baby boys had grown into men. It made Francis tear up with pride when he thought of his little Alfred and Mattieu, now far too big to sit on his lap and pull on his hair whenever he told a story.

Matthew had grown up to be a stocky 5"11 hockey player, a whole two inches taller than his twin. He played with pride for a official NHL team in Canada, where he now lived with best friend, Carlos, a cuban who had a grudge against Alfred. Despite moving across the world, both parents- who still weren't married, mind you- always got calls from their shy little boy.

Arthur, whenever sentimental or drunk, would often say Matthew's eyes where identical to Francis's , being bright when skies where Grey. He thought just like his papa too, seeing the love in everyone, never once thinking less of a person without proper judgement. This was evidently true when Matthew announced he was dating a fellow teammate from Russia, a quiet but scary looking fellow called Ivan.

Alfred moved to the country below Matthew's. Stating he was absolutely dying from confinement of their 'dump little town', he decided to travel across America, completely failing to complete any post secondary school education, stating the grading system was 'wacked to hell dude'. Francis was happy their son was alive and following his, admittedly poor, dreams, and Arthur missed his children like crazy, despite disproving most of their life choices.

Francis stated that Alfred was too much like Arthur; he never ever stops, and never ever takes any day for granted. Alfred fought and worked tooth and nail to get the plane ticket, and now he was looking at the stars in west Iowa with his newly found friends, Kiku and Gilbert. Alfred was happy, and that was all the both of them cared about, despite what Arthur may say.

It was December 21st, and both boys were coming home.

Arthur often had to tell Francis to slow down. About most things in life, truly. It was just that Francis was this man, this beautiful person, who got way to excited at things other people would call silly. Arthur understood and deeply loved that part of Francis, but still.

"Slow down," He would say. "We have time left to be lazy. We have fifty odd years to take a stroll in the garden, smell the roses, and live till we die, yeah?"

But with both of their 26 year old children coming home and company, neither were sitting still.

"Papa!" Matthew said happily, hugging his Frenchman father and letting go of Ivan's hand.

"Oh mon dieu! Mattieu, is that really you?" Francis hadn't seen his son in two years, and it seemed he was following his papa example, growing out his hair and a small beard. Matthew pulled away and adjusted his glasses. "Are dad and Al here?"

"Yo, Mattie, bro!" Alfred came out as if summoned by his name, and hugged his brother. Francis invited Ivan inside and went to stand beside Arthur in the doorway, Arthur leaning his head on Francis's shoulder as they watched their boys reunite.

That afternoon they watched as Matthew presented Ivan with a single rose from his father's flower shop.

Arthur came into the kitchen and threw his coat lazily on to the table. "Francis, did you feed Hero again?" Arthur asked as he examined the chubby dog, whom Alfred had brought home and named some years previously.

"Eh, maybe?" Francis said as he came into the room, wiping his hands on a paper towel. Arthur rolled his eyes and kissed Francis on the head. Francis took this as invitation to kiss the others lips, smiling against them when he felt Arthur sigh under him.

"I told you not to feed him our food a million times." Arthur scolded him, pulling away.

"But what's ours is his," Francis protested, trying to dive in for another kiss. Arthur managed to stop him, causing him to pout.

Arthur instead took Francis's hand and led him to the garden. That's where they sat, taking in the frost covered flowers, glittering in the sun.

"The boys have gone home." Arthur said, sounding sad. He never liked seeing his children go.

"Oui, they have. But they will be back." Francis said with certainty. "Besides, we will need to attend Mattieu's and Ivan's wedding."

Arthur sighed. "Soon enough Alfred will be having one with that Natalia girl."

"Is l'amour so bad?" Francis asked, shifting his arms around Arthur's torso.

"No," Arthur said. "I suppose not."

"Well then, let's be ready for when there'll be lots of grandbabies for us!"

"F-Frog! Don't say that!" Arthur blushed brightly while Francis laughed.

"I'll set the table, mon Cher, and you can make the fire."


	4. it got warm when you crossed my eye

I would like to formally point out I wrote this before season 3 came out and just re-discovered it.

So, I just got the most wonderful mental image of John singing 'Hey Dragon' to Sherlock.

Season 3 Plot twist: Sherlock was dragon the whole time after his death.

John gets sent on a mission to defeat the dragon guarding 221b Baker Street.

John realizes the Dragon is Sherlock and starts to wonder why he left the Shire. 

**Hey Dragon**

John was lying down on his crappy small bed, eyes watching the ceiling with no interest. He had been a total bummer ever since Sherlock committed his suicide, moving out of Baker street and into some crappy-ass apartment, unable to handle the memories. When his phone went off, he let it ring a few times before answering with the monotone "Hello?" That usually ran his life nowadays.

"John? John Watson?" The voice of Greg Lestrade rang through the other side.

"Yes, this is me." John was dully surprised. Nobody had tried to contact him in weeks, all saying he was a lost cause.

"Well, pack your shit; I got a job for you." This actually got John interested. He thought all the people at Scotland Yard hated him because he was so close to Sherlock.

"What job?"

"Er, well, you remember your old place right? Baker Street with… him?"

Of course John remembered. John remembered every little thing. The way he would pop his collar and do that little smirk that made him look like an utter ponce. Or the way he used to store eyeballs and livers in their shared fridge and bossed poor old Miss Hudson around. Or when his brother would come over and insult John's complete life, which they both knew every second of…

Wow. John really needed to move on.

But certain matters came first.

"What happened?" He asked. Miss Hudson had refused to sell the apartment, so all of Sherlock's (And, to be honest, most of his) things were still there.

"Well… you may want to come see."

"Are you fucking kidding me, Sherlock?"

A giant golden eye peered into the young hobbits face. "Help John, I don't like being a dragon."

And with that, John Bilbo Baggins Arthur Dent Watson turned and hailed a cab.

"Why did I ever leave the shire?" John asked himself as the car sped away from Sherlock's screams of dragon rage.

**Fin.**


End file.
